tamnaeuth | ic contact

The winds are loud and voices insistent.

[ A sing-song voice reaches out, a flicker of unease and desperate grasping for anything to hold on in painfully bright in the touch of a mind. ]

And so I ask thee for aide. What aide to quiet these voices so I might stay and remain myself. So I might bend my skill to accomplish what needs must be done.

So I might not shake apart and become but another creature here.

[ At first she blinks, then relaxes her mental barriers; a plea for assistance is not something to be ignored. ]

Something to calm the outside voices making their way into your mind? I may need more context, but I have ways to accomplish that, the least of which can start with meeting face to face. Are you opposed to that?

Scattered in the wind. Feathers encroach and cling...

[ She might get the impression of a sharp shake of Daeron's head and he attempts to draw himself together enough to make a little more sense. ]

I am with...Maglor. Inside the Academy.

[ He means it as an agreement. ]

A temporary solution.

I'm heading back from the city, and should be arriving soon. Will you and Maglor meet me in the main hall, near the Seamstress's rooms?

[ Her mental presence in return is focussed, calm, and considering. Magic this month stirring in the area is either affecting him more strongly than his fellow and the rest of their collective fellows; or lingering and building from the month before. She increases her speed, falling into a ground-devouring lope. She could fly, but wasting that magic seems senseless when she may need it for finer craftings momentarily. ]

[ A flicker of assent is her only real answer. Between his nature being part of a malleable formed being with a penchant of feathers, and the sense of this world being a bit more than he's used to, along with the greater amount of power in the air this month...he's having trouble clinging to his Elvish form. Maglor helps anchor him through song and pure stubborn will.

Daeron will meet her by the Seamstress' rooms, leaning against the other Elf and listening to the Song that is Maglor's being. ]

[ Maglor has his arms wrapped around Daeron, and is Singing low and deep, the rich rolling of the waves, wordless and softly pleading. stay, stay, stay here

He tips a polite bow to Tamnaeuth, but otherwise his attention is wholly focused on the other bard ]

[ This makes for a tableau, she thinks offhand, lips in a thin line when she reaches them both. She reaches for Daeron's hands as soon as she's in distance, clasping them between her own as she studies his face with a serious demeanour. She tips her head to Maglor as acknowledgement, but his functioning as a steadying force here is close to self apparent.

Having the Fairy Godmothers who've been brought here react strangely to the magics of her world isn't new, particularly, but each time it's different. ]

Daeron, there are magics I can work to lend you clarity of thought. I'm going to work one of those right now, so we can discuss what's happening, and plan accordingly. Maglor—[ her eyes stay on Daeron ]—you may feel similar effects, due to proximity. It'll pass before the sun sets.

[ A warning to both that this is a temporary measure, before they can find something that'll better work to help him. Her eyes, dark as they usually are, gain a soft glow as she works the magic without words, simply humming her own repeating melody, a lending of clarity of sense and centring; not from her training out of books and desperate experience as a Fairy Godmother, but older, the training she'd grown up with. Ways to handle friends and comrades in arms going into shock, or lending them a borrowed sense. Here, it's offering her own clarity, the surety of what's around them, the grounding of her senses without any of her thoughts attached. It's not instantaneous, but the difference should feel obvious as the heartbeats tick toward minutes. ]

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please feel free to ignore him, he's just here for moral (spiritual?) support

accepting their audience of +1 silent supporter